


Five Times Liam Said Goodbye

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Lists, M/M, i want to be a baby, i want to start over
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2015-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-29 08:29:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3889468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They lay there quietly for a while, and just when Liam thought he couldn't possibly fall asleep, he does. He whispers a "goodbye" softly into Zayn's hair before he dozes off, all bones and soreness. Because he knows that the mess of tangled limbs he expects to see the next morning won't be there. He knows that this would have to do, and somehow, he's okay with that.</p><p>(Liam says a bunch of goodbyes to a bunch of things, the end. Oh, and Zayn is almost always somewhere in there, too.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Liam Said Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first 1D fic, as a wholly new er, "Directioner," so please forgive factual errors, and all concrit is welcome and appreciated. I haven't done this fic thing in a while, so please be gentle. Thank you. x

**I.**

 

The first time Liam said goodbye and really meant it, he said it to himself. He didn't really plan for it to happen that way, but for the longest time, he just somehow learned to live with _these_ feelings, tamp them down, and ignore them. He pretended they didn't exist until he couldn't anymore. He just didn't want to, couldn't stand to lie himself any longer.

So he picked up the pieces of himself, the ones he used to hide in his drawers, all scraps and no context. He decided that it was time to figure out who he was, truly get to know himself. It wasn't going to happen if all the important bits were folded up so tiny and stashed away with his clothes and his homework and the flask he keeps towards the back of his closet to swig from when he's nervous. The pieces pathetically look like discarded garbage, tucked so deeply away that he was the only one who even knew about them. He couldn't parcel off his being and keep bits of himself as secrets that even he himself wouldn't touch.

He unfolded a ticket here, a napkin there, scrawled with a phone number he was brazen enough to ask for but never call. Liam inhales deeply, confronted at last by all of the things he had wanted, needed to hide, and then he opens himself up to every possibility and every opportunity he said "no" to before.

So, he sort of comes out to himself, not like in a gay way. He's still not sure about that. But he comes out to himself in a "this is all of it" kind of way. He waves goodbye to the Liam that everyone assumes him to be, just suddenly sick of it all. Once the thrumming settles into his bones, Liam looks for his mum.

The afternoon light falls in squares on their living room carpet, and he can't help but think of all the partitions he's erased. He finds her and he eases his her into it. His heart breaks a little when he stopped being able to read her face. By her second or third sniffle, he can't be sure, he realizes that she _knows_. Before he even knew himself.

And his heart breaks into even more pieces, because knows she doesn't want this. But neither does he. Not really, anyway. Not yet. He feels the weight of this admission, solid on his chest but he steadies his resolve. "I don't know, and I'm not sure," he keeps saying, and she tries to smile at Liam, to show him that she understands.

He wants to swallow back everything that made her hurt,  but he knows that what he just told her isn't something he can take back. The words have escaped his lips and no matter how hard he tries to coax them back into himself, it won't make his mother unhear it.

So he clears his throat. 

"I know it's hard for you to accept it," he starts, and he almost sobs at the thought that he was the one who made her cry that way. "But you're not the one who has to live it, too."

"I know," she says, evenly. "I'm not sad, Liam. I'm so, so proud of you."

 

**II.  
**

 

He's a little bit scared, but he knows this isn't something that comes around everyday, so he says goodbye to his family in little bits. Liam thinks, "I'm a 'yes' man, now." Then he thinks about all the things he can stop worrying about not being able to do when he gets older. He'd have done all the traveling and all the parties. He figures he'd have seen at least a quarter of the world by then. Liam stops counting at 43 days, which was the first night he didn't get to call home or ask how his sisters are. He feels so heavy, he sinks into his bed but he doesn't fall asleep. Not right away.

Liam thought that not winning  _X-Factor_ was hard, but being on tour constantly feels even harder. He knows he should be grateful, and he is, always. Still, all of this makes him the kind of tired that seeps into his bones, and he can feel himself unraveling, his skin and bones and muscle threatening to unfurl whenever someone stops looking at him and he knows that he's alone.

He tells himself that this is why, when Zayn pops his head into his room and makes his way into his bed, he lets him. _Bone-tired_ is why, when Zayn burrows himself in the crook of Liam's arm, he moves him closer and accidentally breathes him in. 

Without the bright lights and the live-show theatrics, Zayn seems so very small beside him. He smells like boy sweat and cigarette smoke, and on someone else, Liam might have scooted away a little and tried not to breathe so much. But this was _Zayn_ , and he realizes suddenly that this was something he wanted that he didn't even know he was waiting for.

They lay there quietly for a while, and just when Liam thought he couldn't possibly fall asleep, he does. He whispers a "goodbye" softly into Zayn's hair before he dozes off, all bones and soreness. Because he knows that the mess of tangled limbs he expects to see the next morning won't be there. He knows that this would have to do, and somehow, he's okay with that.

 

  **III.**

 

"I'll hide you," Zayn breathes into his ear. It tickles Liam a little and he has to reply in a half-breath. They were in his bed again, trying to be quiet. It's become a habit of theirs, and Zayn's already made up excuse after excuse for why he's always there. The third time he showed up, Liam already stopped listening for them.

 "Where?" He turns on his side to face him, and Zayn's beautiful face swims to view. The October air is cold, so they are half buried in his sheets.

"Somewhere," Zayn says, finally. Liam keeps quiet after that. He pushes it away from his mind and nuzzles into the space between Zayn's shoulder and head, right beside his scruffy cheek. Zayn suppresses a chuckle but fails. Liam keeps telling himself that he's okay with this, that he'll take it and won't ask for any more than this. Right now is what matters to him, and right now is perfect.

 "We can do it, you know," Zayn says. "We could run away." Liam knows he doesn't mean it, so he laughs a little, but the hoarseness of it settles into an ugly silence with a little bit of bitterness that he forgot to hide. Zayn says this shit all the time when everything gets too much to bear and he can't handle it. Liam takes it, because he knows he can carry a little bit more than Zayn can, and he doesn't want Zayn to run away. So, you have to understand that he knows it's a joke, he does. But it doesn't keep him from wanting it.

Later that day, Liam said goodbye to his pristine skin when he decided to get his first tattoo. It was a nippy day in Ireland, where there's a lot of alcohol and a lot of bad ideas. For Zayn and Harry, Liam's sure it's nothing, but he still thinks it's a little sweet that they ended up getting matching tattoos. Well, all of them, except for Niall. Liam can understand his aversion to the permanence of it. Goodbyes can be hard.

He _knows_ why Louis finally did it; who doesn't by now? But then a thought blooms in Liam's brain as he starts to think about why he ended up in that tattoo parlor in Dublin, too. _It's just two dumb crosses_ , he reasons to himself. _It's nothing._  But then his eyes linger too long on a pair of wet lips, and his gaze trails up a stony face, getting caught in two big, murky oceans. 

Before he knows it, he's drowning. So he's thankful when the needle hits his skin. He's grateful for that contact, because he's not quite sure he could have looked away by himself. Liam clears his throat and shifts in his seat. He settles into the comfort and the familiarity of the boys all around him. Sometimes it helps when you're the shy one. No one expects you to say anything.

After this first tattoo, the rest were easy to get. Most of them, anyway.

 

**IV.**

"It's not what I want," Zayn says. Liam knows this isn't easy for him either, but he relishes in his anguish, anyway. "But it's what needs to be done." His heart hitches in his chest because he knows Zayn's right. He always is.

When he said goodbye, again—this time, a reply, because Zayn says it first—it was because this _thing_ between them started feeling more like a chore. Four hours between _texts_ and too much exhaustion and drama and stilted everyday conversation, while still having to look like he didn't give a shit and was just so shit-faced happy to be a part of something that's bigger than all of them.

Often, there would be a chance, ripe and golden, for two or three hours on a random Tuesday that they can get together and actually _be_ together. Eventually all of the effort and the squirreling around didn't feel worth it or fair to either of them. It was another responsibility he didn't want, another secret. Liam was done with secrets. 

"We could go, you know," Zayn says, face hidden somewhere in the shadows and the sheets. "We could go somewhere." Instead of snorting or laughing or lashing out, Liam just brings him closer to his chest, puts his knuckles to his lips, and says, "I know. We could always go somewhere. Just the two of us."

He wakes up with a start, just before 4 a.m., and the space beside him is cold and empty. This time, he's thankful that he's too tired to even feel sad.

They managed alright. They can stand to be around each other, act almost normal. But he catches Louis' eyes and he knows that they all know. He knows, too, that they care about him too much to say anything. So, considering everything that's happened, the past few months have been alright. You could say that he's been great, even. But then a crook of an elbow, or the way the light hits his skin like it's on fire, and Liam feels like he's back to square one. He doesn't know how Zayn feels, and he doesn't feel like it's his place to ask. Not anymore.

For a moment, he'll forget why they're apart, but Niall's laughter or Harry toppling over Louis brings him back to the water's surface. When he breaks through it, he'll lock eyes with Zayn and it's enough. It's enough to remind him why he left and why he should stay gone. He wishes his sheets still smelled like him, though.

 

**V.  
**

Zayn checked out of the group months ago, maybe even longer, but nobody thought he would actually _leave_. Nobody, except for Liam. He always felt it in his bones, mixed in with his sore limbs . He always talked about going somewhere. He just didn't take Liam with him.

At first, he didn't want to say anything bad, because he still cared about Zayn. So, he didn't. He made excuses for him, even though he didn't understand him at all. He even stopped himself from sending texts he knows Zayn won't answer. But he can't lie and say the pain didn't feel like a knife twisting in his guts, every time they played together without him. They were supposed to be a team, the five of them. A family. 

Liam's not sure what broke him, but he finally makes a joke about replacements and the fifth member of One Direction, even though he wouldn't ever let that happen. But it hurts, and it's been hurting since he left. A small part of Liam wants to hurt him back, so he does.

Everything unspools into a messy web, and when he reads Zayn's reply to Louis, Liam almost doesn't even recognize him. He knows he started this avalanche, but there are things you can't take back, and there are things you keep to yourself, deep in your skin. _Somewhere is a place that nobody knows._ He smiles a little sadly at the thought because finally, it's become something true, too. 

**Author's Note:**

> I shit you not, I was in the middle of writing this when _that shit show_ happened, and now we are here.
> 
> Thank you for reading.


End file.
